Devious
by Sunrays and Saturdays
Summary: Sequel to Secret Smile: After the first encounter, Grissom decides to conduct a few experiments under the same conditions as before. GSR. Finished.


**A/N: This story follows the events of my story "Secret Smile". Big shout out and thanks to my partner in crime Wishing on the Moon, who gave me a speedy beta and as always, added her own little touches which always makes everything she does so wonderful. Thank you, Hedi, yer simply the best. :)**

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**Devious

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Gil Grissom hated guilt. Guilt was like a disease – a tiny cancerous cell that started in the back of the mind that soon started to grow and eat at your brain until it was all there was.

And yet…with this guilt, was the immense feeling of gratification that came from what he'd done.

The first time, it had been unintentional. He'd dropped off to sleep, listening to a classical piece by Joaquin Rodrigo while sitting in his chair in his office. Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind he'd heard Sara's voice as she'd called him. Caught in a state somewhere between sleep and wake, the line between dream and reality blurred, he'd been unable to open his eyes and respond.

He'd only stirred mentally when she removed his glasses from his face. He remembered the soft tap of as she placed them on the desk by the report he'd been writing before he'd dozed off.

Grissom could remember the sound of her footsteps as she'd crossed the room and then come back to him. She paused, as if she'd forgotten something. He sensed something hanging in the air between them, and he'd considered making a show of rousing himself, letting her believe he hadn't been aware of her presence. But then she'd touched him.

There had been a time when he privately savored those moments when they bumped into each other, leaning in over evidence or taking turns at the microscope. Lately, whenever she got too close, he tended to go into a strange state of shock that he wasn't quite able to comprehend or avoid. This time her touch had surprised him but he was able to hold still, willing himself to commit the experience to memory; he wanted to be able to recall these moments in detail.

He focused on the warmth coming off her fingertips as they fluttered across his lips. She drew her hand away; he wanted more but could do nothing about it. Then the warmth returned, the faintest moisture present. Although his eyes had been closed, he imagined her pressing a soft kiss to her fingers, using them to convey it to his lips.

There was no way of knowing. He convinced himself it was a foolish notion; that he'd read too much into it. Still, given the intimacy of her touch, it remained his fondest hope for some days after.

Thinking rationally, he could find no reason to condemn his behavior. She'd surprised him; rather than awaken with a start, possibly embarrassing them both, he'd pretended to be asleep. There was no blame to be assigned, no justification for feeling guilty.

But the second time…that was different.

He convinced himself to call it an experiment: under the same conditions, would Sara make the same move? Would she take it further? It was purely scientific curiosity.

Grissom decided to wait until a night when the workload would make his nodding off at work plausible. He didn't have to wait long: only a few nights later he'd been called in early. Confident he wouldn't really fall asleep, he set the stage.

Imagining himself looking from the doorway, he saw himself, his left elbow resting on the desk and his face propped in his hand. Various documents and photographs from a current case were spread out across the desktop. The radio was on, this time playing a Beethoven sonata. The effect was close, but not too similar, to the first encounter. It was her habit to say goodbye at the end of shift when she passed by, so he expected her. He'd deliberately left the office door open, just enough that she'd feel welcome to walk in.

"'Night, Gri-." Cutting herself off as she took in the scene before her, Sara paused. "Grissom? Are you awake?"

_Yes, this time I'm awake, Sara, _he thought. The feeling he'd gotten away with something left him feeling unexpectedly smug.

He'd heard the door of his office close quietly, and heard her footsteps approaching slowly. Once again, he felt her remove his glasses; he heard the same soft tap as she placed them on the desk. Then she did as he'd predicted: she touched his face.

Grissom had to focus so very hard to keep himself calm. It was only through sheer will that he was able to remain motionless, to not shift even slightly, to not twitch or blink as she touched him.

A wrong move now could literally endanger their relationship. They each believed the other to be unaware of their actions. This was innocent; this wasn't going to complicate anything. It was safe while still allowing them both a little more than their professional relationship allowed.

Grissom celebrated inwardly as Sara caressed his cheeks, tracing the lines across his forehead, ran her finger down his nose, and tickled his lips. She spent more time this time touching his mouth, as if she were fascinated. The sensation of her fingers moving across his mouth burned now into his memory; he'd never forget it. That intimate touch which said more than a thousand words ever could.

It wasn't enough.

After Sara left, Grissom decided he had to have one more experiment. This time, he vowed to himself, would be the last.

After carefully considering options, and gathering the resolve to proceed, a week later an opportunity presented itself. As the end of shift approached, he settled into his chair. Radio on, paperwork completed, he picked up a forensic textbook and leaned back, putting his feet up on the desk. This time, his head was tilted up and he was hoping that it would entice her to do more than touch his face. If he knew Sara as well as he thought he did, she'd be curious enough to see how far she could go.

He closed his eyes, parted his lips just slightly and waited. After some of the longest minutes he'd ever spent waiting, she came to his door.

She spoke his name, just as she had the first two times. Getting no response, she seemed to pause for several moments before closing the door and walking over. He heard her drop something on his desk – a report, from the sound of it, and nothing urgent or she'd have awakened him right away.

Just as she'd done the previous two times, she removed his glasses and placed them on the desk. A moment later, he heard her sigh and felt a tiny ache at how sad it sounded.

Her fingers were on his face again; those incredibly gentle caresses, stroking his beard, his temples, his forehead. He imagined her looking at him intently, her expression not unlike one he'd seen many times in the field: concentrating on every detail, making mental notes she could call upon that no photograph could capture.

He'd thought to lick his lips moments before her arrival, hoping she'd notice they weren't dry as they'd been before. As her fingers remained on his lips, her hesitation told him she did.

A moment after she withdrew her hand, Sara's breath tickled his lips. He had to mentally steady himself; he'd waited for this, hoped for it, but was unprepared for his reaction to the reality of it. Another moment and her lips were on his, trembling against the stillness of his own.

His instincts were screaming to kiss her back. In that instant, he was willing to throw everything he had believed and worked towards out of the window, cast it all aside so he could pull her towards him to make that kiss deep and hard.

He heard something crack, the chair shifted and then he felt his head and back slam against the floor. The pain exploded through his head and he let out a roar that was incoherent, even to himself. Back, chair, head, and a few colorful expressions were the only words that were identifiable in the verbal jumble.

He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block the pain out of his head, he heard Sara gasping, grabbing his arm.

"Grissom, are you okay? Lay still, you might have hurt your back…"  
"I'm fine…hit my head…"

_Any moment she's going to know I was awake the whole time,_ Grissom thought in dismay, he slowly sat up, cradling his head.

"You could have concussion."

"It's just a bump, I didn't hit it that hard…"

"God, the chair just…collapsed…" Sara was quickly trying to explain, he noted she deliberately left out her involvement in this. It took him a moment to realize the chair had collapsed under him. It hadn't just tipped over but had literally fallen apart; the back had completely come off.

_Did she lean on the chair?_ Grissom wondered as he rubbed the tender bump forming on the back of his head. He hadn't felt the chair shift if she had put her hands down on the armrests, but he supposed it was possible. The chair had always seemed stable enough; it hadn't suddenly gone wobbly and he hadn't packed on any extra pounds. Something had to have caused it to collapse.

_No. Sara doesn't weigh so much that her weight and mine would cause it to come apart. This is nothing more than a badly made chair,_ he decided. _It could have happened at any time. But why'd it have to be now?_

He licked his lips, he feeling the waxy residue of her lipstick, and he wiped his mouth, not having to go too far to convince her he was simply confused by the sudden start. He pulled himself up slowly; she held onto his arm to help him.

"Do you need something?" Sara asked.

"I'm fine…I'm fine…" he blinked. Feeling slightly off balance, he swayed. _I'm off balance, that's all. Could be a very slight concussion, but I'll be fine. _

"Sit down…"

Grissom nearly sat down behind his desk out of habit; Sara grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Over here…" she laughed nervously. "That one's not really useful for sitting on anymore." She helped him into the chair on the other side of his desk and he sat, cradling his head again.

"You sure you're fine?" Sara asked, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, yes," he assured.

"Let me go get you some ice…" Sara suggested; she seemed anxious to get out of the office.

"I don't need ice, I'm fine…" Grissom sighed. "What were you doing in here?" he suddenly asked, hoping his confused expression would serve to help cover his own involvement in the whole situation. He wasn't sure if he'd given the game away that he'd been awake the whole time and would have given anything right then to be able to play back the whole scene through her eyes so he could see for himself what had happened.

"I was just dropping off a report…it's on your desk," Sara's voice raised a pitch higher the more nervous she became. Grissom might have laughed if he wasn't preoccupied with his own concerns about the situation.

"That's fine, I'll, uh, I'll get to it as soon as I can…" he forced a smile. _Soon as my head stops thumping, that is._

Sara made her way towards the door, "You sure I can't get you some ice? Or aspirin? Possibly a new chair?" she teased, smirking just a little. Grissom let his eyes flick to her lips for the briefest instant. He'd almost forgotten their lips had been touching only moments ago – before that chair had been his undoing.

"I'm fine, Sara. Thank you." Sara hesitated at the door for a minute before finally turning and leaving him alone.

Grissom stood slowly, steadying himself on the desk and he leaned over to look at the pieces of his chair. _The price I had to pay for being devious,_ he thought, rubbing his head again. He felt his mouth twist into a half smile. _Well, Grissom, your experiment went slightly wrong…but…you did get the desired results.

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**End

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_**Big shout out to everyone at YTDAW, kristy87, Unspoken, andcsishewolf in particular (if I've forgotten anyone else it's 'cause I'm half asleep, trust me).**_

**Thanks again to my wonderful beta, creative consultant, partner in crimeand friend, the one and only Wishing on the Moon**


End file.
